There's No Room In This Hell, No Room In The Next
by The Body Days
Summary: DracoHarry. Slash. Yaoi.Perfection is but a word to describe something that interests us, but as a whole, we nothing about.Angsty. But reomance is very visible.
1. Sometimes I Wish I Were Invisible

To see perfection you have to notice the flaws, the broken pieces glued together to shine and strive and entice you into a false sense of security, so that you believe that a person was perfect, and was perfection in its best form, that nothing could break them, nothing could be wrong.

Oh how wrong, how horribly, horribly wrong we were to think such things.

If you look deeper you see the steely gaze, the look of longing, pure hast and want, a want to be free and not have to pretend anymore, to finally be able to relax and just say "Here I am world", to live and to have lived, but it's not always that easy.

You have to look for the broken heart and the selflessness. They have no choice in what they feel, or what they do, the just _do it._

That was Draco.

Perfection.

Perfectly broken.

Perfect for me to fix, and perfect for _me_.

Love is strange and scary and so many other things. It makes you happy, and it drives you insane, and it grips you so tightly with want and need you feel like you're going to explode. **_Need _**to hold them and have them, and **_want _**to be with them and tell them a thousand times over how much you love them, and still you'd never be able to say it enough. Not to truly tell them what your hearts feels.

I don't think I'll ever be able to understand love, all I know is it's what I feel, and to me, It's the best thing in the whole world. I have my Draco, and he has me, and that's all that matters.

After all the time I can barely believe it took me that long to notice, to see the real man behind the mask. He mesmerised me for so long, but for all the wrong reasons. His sharp wit, the smirk and the gaze he gave you, the gaze that made you hot with fear and anger and cool with rage and frustration. The gaze that confused you so much you forgot why you were arguing you just argued.

And that's what he wanted; someone to get close enough and maybe notice the broken, the beaten.

But I didn't, I just lashed out, I _hit_ him, I _hurt_ him.

So aware of the world at his age, Barely 17 but so wise and beyond his years and sometimes it showed, sometimes his face was deathly pale not the alabaster tone it usually adopted. Or sometimes there were dark purple rings that clouded his beautiful eyes, grey in the sunshine, silver in the moon.

I think that's the first time it changed, or maybe it had always been there. I was somewhere between a false state of denial, and a strong state or confusion. I'd notice many times how beautiful he was, in every aspect of the word. Beautiful inside and out. I think it was the first time I recognised the bittersweet difference between Not Really Hate, But Not Really Fondness and love. It stung to see him walk into the room and feel so far away. To have him a mere few feet away but feel so distant.

I wanted, _needed,_ to be closer. It hit me like a brick wall, hard and fast.

I'd fallen for him.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

It was Potions. Second period. Friday morning, just before half term.

He walked in with his head down, alone. He'd changed a lot since I'd first met him. I don't know what had happened but he'd changed.

He didn't taunt me anymore, we hardly ever had anything to do with each other, and that hurt.

He didn't have his goons hanging from him, or that desperate excuse for a person, Pansy Parkinson.

He was a different man, and it pained me to see him hurting so.

His hair was the same as always if not more silky and full. Light blonde, almost silver. I itched for my fingers to be guided through it, fingering the soft strands.

His robes were long, and pulled around his slender frame, which had filled out with years of Quidditch. He took a seat two rows ahead of me. I was seated alone, Hermione and Ron were sat together, and I was on the bench across from theirs. The seat next to him was empty and he sighed as he slumped down, his body easing into the chair, with almost a sigh of relief and gratitude. I ached to sit next to him, and the next thing I knew, my bag was over my shoulder and as my legs carried me to him, 15 pairs of eyes were on me. I was thankful not everyone was here yet. And as I sat down next to him, I knew this would be gossip that wouldn't go away any time soon. Oh no, the Gryffindor's loved to know everybody's business and the Slytherin's loved to keep tags on **everybody. **

Whispers erupted in the room, and as I dared to glance around in their direction, Hermione and Ron were staring wide eyed; the classic Dear-In-Headlights look spread across their faces. And to be honest? I didn't give two fucks.

My bag was set under the table and ours bodies were heart ragingly close, ours knees brushed as I turned to him.

With a slight nod, "Draco"

It was the first time he'd ever heard me call him that. But he'd always been Draco to me, never **Malfoy**. Just Draco, my Draco.

He stared at me with wide eyes, eyes that screamed out to be seen, really seen, and a soul that screamed out to be loved, understood. I knew I was the man for the job. Then they softened and he smiled, really smiled, and one word escaped his lips the never sounded so good. It was like it was made for him to whisper, scream, gasp.

It was his, as was I.

"Harry…"

The whole world lit up and I couldn't help but return his beautiful smile.

The rest of the lesson passed far too quickly, we worked hand over hand, and not in the forceful way as it had been many years before when working together had been a punishment. No, it was more a blessing. I got to be close to him.

We worked in a far more graceful way, almost like a dance, and the smile that graced his lips was enough to set my heart on fire. I was burning hot, and it felt **good.**

We finished first and just had time to sit. We were enveloped in a space of our own, where an understanding of trust grew, that really, had always been there.

It's amazing how fighting with someone for so long emits you to getting to know the person almost as much as you know yourself.

And as we began to talk, and as his words wrapped around me, and his voice warmed me up, I lost myself in his eyes and found myself in the best place in the whole world where nobody else mattered, nobody but Draco.

Soon the bell rang and it was over before it had even begun and I was sad. A true honest genuine sadness crept over me. I was having such a good time, the best I'd had in a while. But as we all stood to leave and walk on to our next lessons, and I had a side glued to Dracos', things didn't look bad for either of us. He was smiling and for once the haunted edge that hung in his eye was gone, and the beaten stoop to his posture was lost, forgotten, and that would do for now. It was the best I could do.

I wanted to make him ok, I wanted to take his pain away, and I knew for now I had done just that and that would do. It would do.

The Friday slipped away and we were caught stealing glances at each other over dinner. Smiling, a blush tingeing our faces, looking away when the other caught us with our wandering eyes and lust filled gazes.

I hardly slept that night. Thoughts of Draco danced around in my head, his smile, the way he said my name, his eyes, his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes and the way they glimmered in the light. His smooth slender fingers moving gracefully chopping, cutting mixing, the way his face was a wonderful picture of concentration. What his face looked liked when I talked, he gave himself over to my words getting fully immersed in them, taking them in and actually listening to me. I've never had anybody do that before. Actually **listen** properly, and because they wanted to, not because they had to.

And then soon the night slipped away and we found ourselves amongst the few people staying home at the break, so we spent it together.

It was…amazing.

The best time I've ever had, I'll never forget it. It's when it finally happened, when the hate turned to lust turned to love. To understanding the person so much, knowing them better than yourself almost. Love, pure and innocent as it should be.

The Saturday passed and we just talked. It's amazing how a week or two can change two people.

It started on the Sunday. It was a lazy day that we agreed to spend together. It was warm so we ate breakfast and went outside, our new friendship blossoming in the heat, the sun was shinning brightly and a breeze blew gently over the landscape ever so softly now and again making it an almost perfect day. There wasn't hardly anybody around, and it felt like we had the whole castle to ourselves, but then we were so wrapped up in each other that thousands of people could have stormed us and we wouldn't have thrown caution to the wind.

We took shade under some large trees at the edge of the forest, near the lake.

Slumped against the trunk of a tree, bodies touching, sides glued together again, legs spread out, heads lolled back against the bark.

He breathed a sigh, the breath that escaped his beautiful lips grazed across my neck slightly, and amidst the heat, it made me shiver, a joyous feeling spreading all the way down my spine and rippling through my nerves.

His ghostly pale hands were resting dangerously close to my thigh and I ached to be closer, to touch him, and hold him. It hurt to want him so bad. My chest was tight and my brain was exploding, every time our legs brushed, or our fingers touched my skin burst into flames. It hurt to need him so much. It **hurt.**

And all of a sudden his head was resting on my shoulder, and he was closer. I rested mine atop his and it felt so good. Such a small expression of tenderness sent me soaring. It was such an innocent thing and it made my heart swell. He made me feel complete, like there was something missing before he was there. It was amazing the things that had surfaced since I let myself go, and actually listened to what I felt, instead of telling myself. It was also quite amazing how he made my emotions go insane. The pure selfishness of wanting him all to my self, to hold and be with for forever, and wanting and needing him, it **was** selfish. But I didn't care.

His soft breath flittered over me as he spoke

"Thank you Harry" His voice just above a whisper as he shuffled toward me more, nuzzling his head into my neck more, making me melt even all over again and making my head spin.

"Thank you?" It was puzzling to know what he ever had to thank me for, if anything I had to thank him. For being so amazing and wonderful, and beautiful, the list was endless.

"Thank you for showing me kindness even when you didn't have to." He words made my heart sink, and my mind to race. I didn't know what to say.

So I didn't.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

The day soon slipped into the evening and the sun cast shadows over the lake and over us. We hadn't moved, just sat wrapped in each others arms talking about anything that came to mind.

The fast falling rays danced across the shimmering surface of the water

"It's beautiful" I spoke softly, almost afraid to ruin the atmosphere around us.

He nodded slightly and placed a soft small chaste kiss on my shoulder that made my skin burn and a sigh to escape my lips. And he did it again and again, and my skin got even hotter and hotter and my hand had slipped under the rim of his shirt and it was stroking at his side.

Such a loving touch, and affectionate.

My arms encircled his tiny waste tighter than before, and pulled his body flush to mine, his scent filled the air, rich and sweet, like liquid candy. I tried to memorise it. Taking him in with all my senses, my eyes fluttering over his beautiful body, and my hands mapping it out, his smell was better than any other, and the soft intake, outtake of each breathe soothed my soul.

And in that moment I decided this was forever, and I sealed it with a kiss. Chaste and soft, his lips brushing mine, filled with adore.

I realised he was perfection, in its own broken sort of way.


	2. Poison

That hot summers evening was one I'll never forget, as I held my stormy blonde close watching the sun slowly slink beneath the horizon, the rays catching on the water making it glisten and sparkle as it ripped in the slight breeze overhead. The old castle cast a shadow over the landscape dusting it with a light shade, bringing relief from the humid atmosphere. The birds were out and their song filled the air with sweet sounds, the flowers making everything smell a thousand times sweeter.

My legs were numb from sitting, and having Draco in my lap, and my arms were sore from holding on so tightly, but I didn't notice. It was like I was somewhere else, and maybe I was, maybe.

I felt something slide into place then. I knew I wasn't fazed by anything, Death, life, the inevitable 'final battle', **Nothing**.

I felt in my heart I had a purpose and that kept me going strong, a mile a minute. I found myself feeling more confident and braver that I had ever been. I wasn't some poor broken golden saviour anymore.

I was Harry Potter.

And I had Draco to think about.

You see, now he was all that mattered. Everything I was going to do, I knew was going to be for him. And that made me invincible.

Wrapped in my arms I wondered what he felt when we were this close. What he thought?

I wondered if I made everything right for him. Made him feel what I felt for him. He deserved it. And so much more.

As the night drew in closer, and we slowly slipped into darkness, our time spent together outside by the lake was truly over.

I was still curious as to why he was different, why he was uneasy all of the time, drifting around with his head in the clouds.

I wondered about his parents, and his home life.

And I wondered about his 'friends' and how they treat him.

I wondered so many things. It was like…I had all these questions flying around and no answers, not even one. It was up to him to talk, I was scared to ask. I didn't want to cross any lines, or upset him anymore that he was.

Draco raised full of grace and posture, moving from my lap, the cold air hitting the places his body once was, making my mind wiz with envy and amazement. How he managed to maintain such a thing after sitting down for so long was beyond me. It was just **him**. Another piece of perfection.

Whereas myself, when I made to get up my muscles tingled and fizzed, making me wobble slightly and let out a groan as I stood straight, earning me a playful smirk from a certain silver eyed beauty. His touch like liquid silk grasped my hand and gently tugged me along, up winding pathways under the moonlight.

The silver rays acted like our blanket of invisibility as we entered the castle unnoticed, slinking through the hall doors into the main foyer dimly lit with church candles that would glow for hours upon hours filling the room with their dancing light.

A choice had to be made. Up, Gryffindor, down Slytherin, separate ways, loneliness.

I had no idea what to do; I could feel a pull to stay with him. His ashen face looking more ghostly in the candle light, his eyes, the doors to his soul, hooded with heavy eyelids and thick lashes. He was slightly slouched and leaning into me, our foreheads resting, hands clasped afraid to let go. He looked so…fragile, breakable. I never wanted to let go, but I knew the decision lay in his hands.

Truth be known? I was afraid to let him go. Even just for the night. I don't know why, but I was. I was slowly seeing into the mind of this broken down boy, and I could only guess, but one of which I knew almost certainly I was right, that his nights were plagued with nightmares.

Of what? I could not tell you.

Why? That I held no answer to either.

But I knew they were, and I knew I wanted to help.

His arms snaked around my neck and his head tucked just under my chin, and I realised just how much he was depending on me tonight.

Then he choked out the words I was longing to hear. But please, don't get me wrong. I had no ill intentions, or ulterior motives. I just wanted to **be** with him. Hold in my arms and have him curl into me as he slept. Only to wake up to the most beautiful sight in the world.

One that made my heart light and floating.

One that set my soul on fire.

He whispered, almost purred them to me:

"Harry stay with me…please…I don't…want to be alone tonight" His tone almost begging.

He looked up at me with glassy eyes, filled with hope and slight fear. And I knew I knew the nights were the worst for him. I knew.

I was there to fix it, right?

I nodded, and let my breathe ghost over his face, letting to settle almost soothingly.

And again, he smiled a genuine smile that made my poor little heart pound inside my chest.

I felt like some foolish school girl fawning over him like I was.

I'd only ever been into the Slytherin Dungeons once before, but paid no attention, so I was more than glad it was half term, and we were almost alone. A few people were left, we'd seen them around and about, but obviously, at this late hour, they were sleeping, or were some place else.

It was grand, and lavish, decorated in fresh vibrant greens, shimming emerald, and deep silvers. The furniture was plump and rustic, leading you to ponder what it would feel like to sink into one of the couches and rest your tired, tired head.

The floor was marble and wood, echoing under our gentle footsteps.

He led me through, a smile tugging his lips, his cheeks rosy and flushed.

A sweet kiss of his lips and a tug of the hand that was grasped into my own and we were tip-toeing towards the rooms.

God, his lips were like Morphine.

Soothed my pain but kept me coming back for more. Addictive, destructive, all I ever wanted and more.

I didn't know if I was in way over my head, but it was bittersweet and I didn't want to give it up. Not just yet.

He led my down a hallway around a corner and down another hallway, all dimly lit, all in the same deep green, paintings hanging neatly.

I slept better than I ever had in my life that night, wrapped up in silk sheets, with Draco cuddled into my body.

It was the best feeling in the whole damn world. And it was all mine.

Mine.


	3. Tower over me

Darkness. All around, everywhere filling every corner and spreading over every object, for even now in the morning there was just darkness. I knew I was seeing something nobody else had seen. I wasn't just seeing the inside of Draco's room in the morning, and I wasn't just seeing him lying in my arms, hair tousled looking so perfect. **So perfect**, I don't know how to describe what seeing him like this meant. It made my heart pound and my stomach clench. My head whirled and it was almost like pain, ebbing right across my chest. It was so strange.

He looked so peaceful I wondered if he was still breathing, it was only the slight rise and fall of his chest pressing against my side that told me he was. And that in it's self made me feel a million things. He was so close, just how he should be. He was **mine**. Every nerve in my body tingled and it felt like electricity was running through me. All over, consuming me, taking me alive, and I threw myself away to it, it was all him.

No I wasn't just seeing **him**, I was seeing inside his world, his mind. It was a different thing entirely. I was seeing what it was like to be Draco Malfoy, and if this was anything to go by, it was one hellish place.

He looked so out of place, in the dark sheets of his bed, in the darkness of his room. I understood things. It was manic and maybe it made sense, maybe it didn't but…I understood it. Sometimes I don't know how to say how I feel. It's hard, but I try. I do try, in all honesty I do. So now, when I'm faced with this, and I'm not too sure what to make of it. I try;

He's like a candle in a room so dark the moon dare not shine through the cracks in the ceiling, he lights up where he is, bringing a warm glow through the space but he can't reach the corners, there are shadows that loom and dance with laughter and torment. He simply can't reach, he wants to but the darkness clings to him and eats at him, slowly tearing a hole through him until he is but a broken boy in a solitary state.

I try not to let my thoughts dwell. It's hard to try and think of such things that _hurt_ and _plague_ my love, **my love**. Such horrid words for such an elegant creature, like an angel. I think of him as one, my angel come to save me from myself. He's so tainted and carries so many burdens yet he is still light as air, soft as a feather, and he continues on, sometimes un-steady, but forward in his ways.

So now, as his small body is curled around mine, my arms around his tiny waist, head on my chest like a pillow and he's pressed so close, **so close**, I see a totally different world, and so it starts…

It wasn't long before he woke up, his soft and even breathe coming to a halt as a deep sigh emits from his lips and ghosts over my shoulder. He moves closer into me, if it is at all even possible, he's pressed so tightly against me, and I'm holding him so tightly into me I feel like I might break him. He's so fragile. And it's weird because, I see him as so breakable, yet I lean on him for support. And he leans on me.

It leads me to think. **Just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it isn't there. You just have to believe in it. **It's true isn't it? You have to believe or you'll have nothing. You can't see love, but you _believe_ the other person loves you. So that's what we'll have to do isn't it? Believe. I'll have to trust him and he'll have to trust me, and we'll have to try and make a go of things, and then we can sort through this mess we're in. That's what being in love is, a mess.

A soft warm exhale and a whisper

"Hey" He smiled. His entire face lighting up, his soft features coming to life. His eyelashes, so long, fluttered open to reveal two steely greys staring back at me, burning into my soul, just like this memory was being burned into my mind. **So perfect.**

I was drowning, but it was good. I was being enveloped into warmth that someone else gave me and that in itself was one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. It wasn't like the other times. Only Draco could make this kind of drowning, losing yourself, feel so right. Every other time, it was torture. It was like I was kicking and screaming, tearing my guts out and smearing the blood on the walls. Throwing out my arms, tossing my head back and yelling out "Someone save me" until by lungs exploded. But when I called out, there was no one there, only silence, no one to answer back, no one to save me from the bitterness of myself. So I'd slip farer away, farer from reality, because inside I was broken.

Draco fixed me.

Holding someone and in turn being held by someone gives you a feeling of life, and a rush of electricity. Our lazy morning together was the utter most absolute of completion to the perfect night and day previous. Conversation light and floating like a cloud, or a butterfly, but it would never last. Clouds turn grey and the rains pours and **pours. **Or a foolish little child you can't but help to simply loathe, comes along and rips the butterfly's wings off, or crushes the precious life inside their clammy mud caked hand. And, as pleasant as our conversation, in fact our whole morning was, we both knew were we dancing around the subject we wanted to be talking about.

His hair smells of honey, have I told you? My face, my entire face, was buried in it, gently nuzzled against his alabaster neck. With a yawn and one of the most regretted sighs I think my poor body will ever emit, I untangled my arms from his waist and moved out of the cosy, silky reside of his Slytherin embossed four poster, and stepped into the cold air of the dungeon bedroom. He mimicked my self-conscious movements and, with as much grace as ever, rose gently and smiled his smile. His _smile_. I don't even know where to begin with that, so to be honest, I won't even try.

**Obsession**. That is what he has become. My Obsession, my heart, my desire, my love, my life…

Did I tell you how grand the lavish design and layout of his rooms were? Well they are. They are perfect for him; he deserves all the good things he can get after what happened…I want to make him happy. When I see him happy, my heart pounds and my stomach flips and I know this is why I live, I know this is why I do everything I do. To see him smile, his eyes light up with joy because of _me. _

We dressed in a silence that was far from awkward or uncomfortable. It was light and breezy. I was pulling my sweater over my head when I felt someone behind me; I yanked it downwards, turning around, to be met with a pair of steely grey eyes and a gorgeous smile.

Hand in hand, we walked out into the seemingly never ending corridors that were the Slytherin dungeons. At this time in the morning people were awakening and venturing outward from their rooms and dorms, each of them in turn, throwing a snide, a twisting look, that in all honesty? Made me sick to think Draco had to endure. They were horrible, horrible people. Lowly and scathing, like **dirt**, but they were worth far less. I hated them, each and every one of them for who they were, what they stood for, and what they did. How could someone be so cruel? Oh, I knew it excided the nasty looks, and the comments they sometimes sent flying. But you see the Slytherin's were never one for words. More…physical creatures, never giving a fair fight though. Did they think that I had not seen the bruises upon his arms and back? Did they not think that I, knew, **knew** that it couldn't possibly have been anyone else but them. Did they think I was not so sick to my stomach at the thought of them, touching him that I vowed to myself they would pay? Those poor, poor insolent fools.

I would show them what it was like to feel real pain. Of the mind, the body…I wasn't called the Boy-Who-Lived for nothing. Oh no, you don't have to cast an un-forgivable to emit such excruciating pain, the Dursley's had taught me that much.

Breakfast, what a glorious time of the day, the sun hanging low in the sky stinging your eyes with white hot glare. A new day, with new opportunities. Opportunities for two people to fall in love? To learn each other inside out until you know them better than you do yourself? I think so.

Or possibly, for a boy to break down? Or for you to curse everyone you see?

Yes. Maybe.

We entered the great hall, still hand in hand. To say that it was fine and peaceful would be a lie. To say people looked at us, as if we were vermin, as if my Draco was _vermin_ would be a lie. They stared their hating eyes burning into us. Where in the hell could we sit. I realised all too soon, that in actual fact, my confidence was really a lapse in concentration. Where in hell could we sit? But I couldn't walk out; I couldn't let them know they could get to me. And most importantly, I couldn't let Draco know that could get to me. I had to be strong. I had to be the world. I had to be invincible.

So, as sure as ever, which was incredibly hard, really, I don't think you have any idea. It was hard. But…Gryffindor it was. At least then I knew no-one was going to try and hurt him. I think…

It was the table with the least students. The whole bottom end was empty, and only a cluster of students where gathered at the top. I don't know whether we were simply too early or too late to catch the huge crowd but I was glad. Staring up at the other Gryffindor's sat at the table my insides flopped. They were people I knew all too well. Not that I particularly liked them. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean…my 'Friends'. Funny word. I guess there was a part of me that wanted to cling to the friends I once had, but the other, more forward, dominant part of me was saying to kick them to the curb as they had done to me, but that part can come later. I want to tell you about the here, the now. So, I tugged his soft hand along with me, and we sat down at the table. I pulled back the bench and stepped backwards into a half bow in front of him. He sat down with a giggle and I took my place next to him. When I was sat he gently hit my shoulder and continued to laugh. It was brilliant. Like an angels breath against my cold heart. He was **my warmth.** We ate in a happy demeanour, small talk, light talk, easy talk. Talk, talk, **talk**.

And the whole time, the whole damn time, I could feel people staring, hear their whispering. It was hell. I felt open, exposed. If I felt like this, what did Draco feel?

I was just about sick of it when we were finished eating. I felt like pulling my hair out, it was so frustrating. I slammed my goblet down on the table making the plates shake. Draco gave me a side look, as I grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the great hall. Really, I'm surprised I didn't hurt him.

" Harry?" …oh Draco, no. Please.

His eyes were soft, as he pulled us to a halt beside a rather odd looking piece of armour somewhere towards the side of the great hall doors. He stood poised and patient waiting for my shaking hand to be dragged through my messy hair in an action of nerve calming.

I smiled an un-sure smile and laughed an un-steady laugh. He knew I was lying. The laugh was more filled with anger than anything else. He didn't push me; he didn't say a word, just waited.

He clasped at my hands and held them, locking his gaze with mine. He reaches just below my nose. I have to look slightly down a bit. It's cute. Honest. His eyes held mine and I felt everything wash away, he smiled elegantly.

"Don't worry about it Harry…" His words were like a soothing breeze washing over my soul and calming me down immediately. He let my hands slip from his hold and wrapped his arms around my waist resting his head under my chin. I rested mine atop and held him close.

**Can you say perfect?**


End file.
